


I'll light the spark in your bonfire heart

by Pickl3lily



Series: Killerwave 2016 [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fire, Firefighter/Doctor AU!, KillerWave Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7112275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickl3lily/pseuds/Pickl3lily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was doctor/firefighter AU! for killerwave week... I wrote two stories for this prompt and couldn't decide which to post, so here are both. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll light the spark in your bonfire heart

Caitlin was not a heat person. She couldn’t say she sought out the cold and she liked the warmth of another person lying beside her as much as the next person, but flames? Nope. No. No way. But on her way home from her shift, she glanced out of her window to see a house up in flames, a smoke-stained family standing on the sidewalk, howling in distress.

Immediately, she pulled her car over, racing to the family. “Is anyone injured? I’m a doctor, please –” She got no further before the mother broke down further, clutching Caitlin’s arms and howling into her face. “My baby! She’s still in there! I thought my husband had her, I didn’t know! My baby! Oh God!” Her frantic cries echoed in the night, the cracking of the flames and the sobs of the family were the only background sounds, and it was all too chilling to bear.

She hated flames, but she hated heartbreak more – she had just lost her fiancé in the head-on collision that she had barely survived herself, nine months ago; she couldn’t imagine how much worse the pain of losing a child must be. She didn’t really give it another thought, racing into the flames with little consideration for herself, sprinting up the stairs, using her rain-soaked scarf as an improvised gas mask to shield her lungs from the smoke. She found the baby soon enough, unconscious but alive; she cradled the infant to her chest, a strange pang of loss sweeping over her, mourning the children she and Ronnie never got a chance to have, before pivoting on her heel and making to leave.

The only problem was the flames now dancing merrily around the door frame. “Shit. What now?” She glanced around the room, hoping that one of the other children shared this room, that there might be a mattress to throw out the window to land on, but to no avail. This nursery had nothing practical, and there was no way to safely jump – even if she survived, there was no guarantee that the baby would. She pressed the scarf over the baby’s face for a minute, trying to shield it from further smoke inhalation whilst being mindful not to suffocate it. Her; it seemed like it was a little girl, but Caitlin didn’t know her name. “Hey baby. I’m Caitlin – you’re going to get out of here, okay sweetie.” She knew she was talking nonsense, consoling herself more than the unconscious infant in her arms, but allowed her words to continue as her vision became foggier, chest heavier, her head feeling lighter. She allowed herself to slide down the wall, closer to the ground, away from the smoke – thanks fire safety class. “My fiancé, he l-l-loved fire. He, uh, he loved storms too - I used to, um, to tease him about it, you know. I never – I didn’t – Wow, I’m dizzy. Just gon’ sleep now, ‘kay?” She knew sleep was a bad idea, but at that moment, she didn’t really care, she allowed herself the peace that fell over her, allowed it to take her away from this world, reasoning that it was just a little sleep, it couldn’t hurt too much.

 

When she came to, it was in the arms of a large firefighter, on the front lawn with his blue eyes bearing down on her; she was entranced for a moment by the eyes that were glinting with the fire she had just been almost consumed by. Wait – the fire! She was suddenly alert, bolting upright in his arms, searching frantically for the baby. “Hey! Watch it – I didn’t pull you outta there so you could snap your neck on the front lawn; you wantin’ to die, I’ll put ya back in the flames – much better way to go.” His voice was gruff and low to her ears, his arms wound tighter around her, which was when she realised that she was still lying in his lap, no doubt waiting for the paramedics to arrive – she just hoped Rathaway wouldn’t be in the ER if she got taken in. He’d never let her live it down.

“No, the baby. I went in for a baby, is it, is she… ?” Caitlin’s voice trailed off, unable to bring herself to ask the baby’s fate. Had she failed the baby the way she had failed Ronnie those nine months ago? The firefighter looked incredulous, shaking his head slightly when he spoke, “You don’t even know the kid, or the kid’s family, but you ran into a fire, almost died saving it, and now you’re hurt and care more about some random baby than yourself? Think you might have a concussion. Or insanity.” Caitlin felt her face flush, and she struggled to extricate herself from his grip, it was no use of course; she was still weak and dizzy from the smoke, she was only just beginning to register the sounds of the firemen working around them to douse the flames.

“It’s not insanity, it’s consideration – would have thought you of all people would understand that, you _are_ a firefighter, after all.” Caitlin would have cringed at how lofty and snobbish her tone was, but she was trying to convey that she had made the right call due to her consideration of others, and wouldn’t let him see her waver. Somehow, the man seemed to take on two expressions at once – his face was drawn in, angry and spoiling for a fight, whilst his eyes seemed to gleam with a joy and pleasure at the conversation, crinkling around the edges, as if the only give away to a contained smile.

They continued this way, bickering back and forth, hardly noticing when Caitlin was able to sit up in his arms in order to continue the volley of verbal blows; they were so entranced with their argument and each other, that they didn’t even register the ambulance’s arrival until a paramedic was coughing awkwardly to gain their attention. “Sorry, some snarky fireman said that this woman needed to be checked out and his partner needed to – Caitlin?!” The awkward rambling was cut off when he finally met the gaze of the harried doctor in the fireman’s arms, and exclaimed in surprise when he noticed that the woman in question was his housemate.

“Cisco! What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t even working tonight, we were going to watch Firefly and Serenity and bitch about Lisa dumping you. Again.” Caitlin again tried to fight her way out of the fireman’s arms, but this time he allowed it, aiding her to her feet and holding her steady; his glare was now fixed on the paramedic who looked like he would rather be in the still-burning house than in his eye-line. “Uh, yeah. I, we, yeah. I’m uh, covering for Barry – he got himself run over by a bike messenger. I didn’t know we still even _had_ bike messengers; I thought they went out of business with carrier pigeons.”

Caitlin couldn’t help the smile that began taking over her face, hardly noticing as Cisco manoeuvred her towards the back of the ambulance, by which time she realised that the fireman had gone and she hadn’t even managed to get his name. Damn.

**OR MY OTHER TAKE ON THIS PROMPT…**

 

Mick had tried. He really had – still was! He couldn’t help it if the sight of flames dancing around made him go a bit dumb. Couldn’t help how the crackling of the flames was like his own lullaby – its why he had moved in with Lenny. Lenny hated the heat, completely abhorred it. Mick wasn’t completely stupid, he had enough burns to recognise them on other people. The few times Lenny had his shirt off or his sleeves rolled up, Mick had seen the circular cigarette burns, the harsh lines of burns that indicated maybe someone had heated up a poker and laid it, still burning, across Lenny’s pale flesh. Mick knew what kind of man Lewis Snart must have been from the fear on his children’s faces when they were asked about their father, their childhood. He saw their hands reach absently for one another, scared looks barely there, before their cool, calculating masks were slotted back into place.

Living with Lenny had helped. He wasn’t as crazy about the flames if he wasn’t allowed to make them alone; Lenny would sit by him on the couch, reading whatever second-hand fantasy trash Lisa had just finished, before handing it to Mick to burn in the fireplace. It was routine, it wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

He had worked hard to bury his pyromaniac tendencies, especially when in public, nobody wanted to be treated by a doctor who was more likely to throw them as fuel on a fire than to save their lives – its why he had his juvenile record sealed. One of the reasons.

Regardless, he had been fine. He and Lenny had managed it, had gotten out of the life of crime they were being pushed into and managed to get good jobs as doctors in the same hospital. But now, here he was. One drunken confession of a shared moment between he and Lisa had seen Lenny flying through the door following a swift right hook to Mick’s jaw, and everything was lost.

He lit his nightly fire, alone. It didn’t feel right without the Snart’s contributions and it quickly became obvious that he wasn’t able to control himself alone. Books, tables, rugs, mugs, coasters. Anything within reach when quickly into the flames, thick black smoke starting to billow from the chimney chute.

He hadn’t even realised how out of control it had gotten, that the fire had now spread to the room around him, that he was now being kissed harshly by the flames that he had so lovingly made. He didn’t realise until he was dragged from the house, the petite firefighter dragging him valiantly despite the enormous size difference. When they were clear of the flames, another firefighter helped drag him further from the house, back behind a safety line, where the smaller figure then allowed themselves to collapse panting beside him.

Mick knew he should say something; maybe say thank you, or come up with some kind of cover story as to what happened that didn’t make him sound insane and cause him to lose his medical licence. Turning though, he stopped. The firefighter had removed their helmet now, and he could see her auburn hair, tied back in a ponytail, could see the pink flush on her pale cheeks and just like that, it was as if he had never left the flames. He was entranced again.


End file.
